Clyde was in the middle of killing monsters when he suddenly stopped.
The shrieks of dying beasts faded into the background. His hands that still dripping with blackened ichor hung loosely at his side. The battlefield fell into a tense silence, only broken by the low growls of the monsters now circling him.
There are hundreds of those monster right now. Twisted things born from the Selection Stage, all of those twisted eyes trained on him with mindless hunger.
But Clyde didn't move. As if he couldn't care less about their hunger and agression.
He stood in the middle of the cracked stone road, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. His eyes narrowed as a strange sensation began to spread from deep within his chest. It feels like a warm pulsing energy that felt ancient, wild, and utterly alien. But right now he already feels familiar with that power.
